


Perfection is Overrated

by SegaBarrett



Category: Evil Dead (Movies), Evil Dead - All Media Types
Genre: Backstory, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Mild Internalized Homophobia, Narcissism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-30
Updated: 2017-07-30
Packaged: 2018-12-08 18:15:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11652012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SegaBarrett/pseuds/SegaBarrett
Summary: Scotty has quite the following, but his interests have narrowed slightly.





	Perfection is Overrated

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Missy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missy/gifts).



> Disclaimer: I don't own Evil Dead and I make no money from this.

Scott was not used to being told “no”.

His parents had figured out early that he was going to be important, that he had the skills to really do something. And by something, they meant football.  
He could barely reach over the candy counter at the pharmacy when he first started to spend his nights catching passes thrown by his father, with increasing speed and accuracy.

Then again, that was to be expected – his father had been a varsity athlete and then a college one (University of Kansas) before his dream had fizzled out and he had focused it all on the newer, blonder generation. 

He was toned and pretty perfect, if he did say so himself. He enjoyed looking in the mirror, but not too long, of course – if you looked in the mirror at yourself too long and you were a man, it probably meant that you were gay.

It was a hard line to straddle, but Scotty was up to the challenge.

When he met Ash Williams, the first thing that had popped into his head was utter disbelief that someone had been so cruel as to name a boy Ashley. It must have been a kid they didn’t like much. 

And in some ways Ash was difficult to like. He had an awkwardness about him, as if someone had mashed him together and added on his hair as an afterthought. No doubt, he didn’t look at himself in the mirror and feel he was the Greek God Scotty knew himself to be.

Scotty was an institution at Michigan State, but while he was a Spartan he did not live like one.

The man knew how to play, knew how to get his money’s worth and knew how to make one night last into six months without breaking a sweat.

So why again was Scotty sitting in a car, wasting time with Ash Williams? How has they become best friends despite being on complete opposite ends of the MSU social scene?

Because Scotty had felt bad for him, that was why. It was hard not to, what with all of the smush and the mush and the hair on top of everything, and him looking so pitiful. In their freshman year, he had walked up to Ash and smacked him on the shoulder, told him that he needed to come drink with Scott and his friends.  
Took the poor thing under his wing.

He was sitting in a car beside Ash Williams and he couldn’t think about anything other than kissing him. They were both there with their girlfriends – sweet, pretty Linda and shy, busty Shelly - and Scotty didn’t want to think about either one of them. Because they were pretty and nice and all but right now, they were in the goddamned way.

And Cheryl was, especially. He was pretty sure that Cheryl suspected.

Stupid pesky little sisters. Scotty is so glad that his parents realized what they had and stopped after him.

***

“When are we going to get a few minutes alone?” Scotty asked, letting his hand perch on Ash’s shoulder as he gave him the kind of smile a cat would give after eating a canary (Scotty had always hated that metaphor – what would a cat want with a canary, either, when people were always leaving food out for the damn things? Might as well take what’s given after all). “After they all go to sleep?”

“Shush, Scotty,” Ash hissed back. “I can’t exactly tell Linda about… you know. I’m trying to give her a necklace.”

“You can give her whatever you want. Just don’t give it to me,” Scott replied with a too-wide smirk. 

“Scotty, seriously! Sometimes I wonder what’s wrong with you.”

He could see through the criticism to the playfulness underneath, the childish spirit he always seemed to lure out of Ash. He didn’t know what the other boy’s home life was like, but if Cheryl was any indication, it was depressing.

“You know you wouldn’t trade me anyway.” Scotty’s comment was arrogant, true, but it was also true in fact – Scott’s charm could turn anyone from hater to avid fan, or at least he liked to believe so.

“Yeah, maybe,” Ash replied with a grumble. “I invited you to come on this stupid trip, didn’t I?” He rested an arm on the rusted, molding door and nearly fell when it swung backward.

Scotty chortled. 

“Very smooth, Ash.” He ran his hand through his own hair and looked, disappointed, at his friend again. “So when can we send the girls out to knit or something and spend some time together?”

“You’re the one who brought Shelly here, Scott. You’re in a hurry to get away from her.”

Scott liked Shelly. Of course he did. 

But Ash was different. He wasn’t a prize, he wasn’t a trophy. It was hard for Scott to wrap his mind around. He had been with the prettiest girls ever since high school when he’d made varsity in freshman year and had seniors near-fainting as he ran past them in the pep rally.

But Ash was different.

When Scott thought of Shelly, he felt like he was preening. Like he was looking at everything he had accomplished and taking it all in.   
But Ash was…

“Ash. I don’t want to sit here and talk about Shelly, okay? Trust me, I really don’t.” He put his hand on Ash’s shoulder and squeezed it. He didn’t want him to go, didn’t want him to walk away. Thankfully, in this godforsaken cabin, there wasn’t really anywhere to go, even if he did.

Scott could work his magic.

“What do you want to talk about, then?”

Scott grabbed Ash’s wrist and pulled him into Ash’s room.

They could talk about anything they wanted. But mainly, Scotty would talk about himself. After all, there was a lot to say, wasn’t there?

***

“We’re all going to die here, Ash.”

Suddenly, in the dark, he understands the warbling “Ashley” that he hated so much from Cheryl. It was the wail of having seen the end, of having dreamed the end in a nightmare before Scott could even conceive of it.

He can almost hear in his head the other Scott laughing about how even the trees couldn’t resist him. That perfection isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Like one of those commercials where the guy has to learn karate to fight off all of the screaming girls.

But he can’t hear old Scott because he can’t hear anything at all except for the sound of his heart pounding in his ears. It feels like he’s underwater and he’s so, so sorry even though he’s not even sure what for.

Ash is comforting him, bringing water to his lips, but he doesn’t hear it, not really.

He just knows that it’s the end, that it’s him and Ash and whatever comes next. Maybe he’ll be one of those things coming out of the cellar, and maybe not.

Maybe Ash will be right there beside him. 

Or maybe they’ve just succeeded in dying and leaving a pair of good looking corpses.

Scotty reaches for Ash and he thinks of all the things they have never done. And then it’s over, and it’s perfect.


End file.
